


Have what you have

by Zooey_Glass



Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: Future Fic, Gen, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-24
Updated: 2009-05-24
Packaged: 2017-10-02 09:48:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zooey_Glass/pseuds/Zooey_Glass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>It's not like Stars Hollow, but that's part of the pleasure, being able to wander through market crowds in peaceful anonymity, browsing Erica Jong and Anais Nin on the used book stall without running into someone who's known her since she was two.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Have what you have

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Oxoniensis](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/) in the [Fandom Free-For-All](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/367156.html).

"Pretty, ain't it?"

Rory jumps, has to swallow away the lump of homesickness in her throat before she can answer. "Yes, it's lovely." She stretches out one finger to touch the delicate little model, careful not to break it. "How much is it?"

"Oh, it's not for sale." The woman smiles apologetically. "A friend of mine made them, but he don't like to do too many. Just now and again, for friends."

"Oh," Rory says, nodding to show she understands, but she doesn't take her eyes from the miniature bandstand, comparing it to the real one in her mind's eye. Her mom would get a kick out of it, she knows - Lorelai would love to have a real Stars Hollow bandstand for her old dollhouse. Rory feels her eyes prick with tears at the thought, and shakes her head impatiently, reminding herself that only a few minutes ago she was completely content here. It's a bright fall day, just enough cold in the air to bring roses to everyone's cheeks, and she's spent the morning picking her way through market stalls, collar turned up and coffee in hand. It's not like Stars Hollow, but that's part of the pleasure, being able to wander through market crowds in peaceful anonymity, browsing Erica Jong and Anais Nin on the used book stall without running into someone who's known her since she was two.

Still, it would be fun to show this to her mom.

Rory turns back to the stall owner, meaning to ask about the model maker, see if maybe he'd be willing to do a custom order for her. "Excuse me," she starts, then realises the woman's attention is on someone behind her, face lighting up in a smile.

"Dean!" she says, and Rory feels her heart give a jump. She already knows who she'll see when she turns around.

* * *

"Hey, Cassie," Dean says he embraces the stall owner. "Sorry I'm late."

He sounds the same as he always did, voice warm and affectionate. Rory keeps her eyes on the stall, feigning interest in a dainty model of a grand piano, each individual key carved separately so that they can actually be pressed down. She can still see him out of the corner of her eye, though, his long fingers curled loosely around the woman's wrist as he recounts a long story about how the sitter let them down.

_Babysitter_, Rory realises dully, and of course Dean's married with kids by now, what else did she expect? The sudden rush of awkward misery is ridiculous: any normal person would turn and make herself known, find out how he's doing after all these years. Instead, she puts the grand piano back down, looking for an escape route.

She's just about to back away quietly when the stall owner says cheerfully, "This lady was just admiring that bandstand you made. I wish you would make some more, your pieces get the most attention."

"Aw, Cassie," Dean starts, the tone of his voice making it clear that this is an argument they've had plenty of times before. He turns, offering his hand in greeting. "I'm - Rory?"

"Hi, Dean," she says weakly, trying to ignore the ridiculous pounding of her heart. "What are you doing here?"

"Chicago?" he says quizzically. "I live here. What are _you _ doing here?"

"I, um, I live here too." Rory flushes, remembering that however much Dean always seemed like part of Stars Hollow, he's the one who _comes _ from this city, who'd seemed strange and exotic when he arrived at Stars Hollow. She feels sixteen again, the shy smalltown girl who'd found it weird to hear him call soda 'pop'. "I work - I've been working for the Chicago Tribune."

"But not any more?" Dean asks, always quick to hit on the things she doesn't say.

"I've been thinking of a change," she explains. "Going freelance, maybe."

He nods, thoughtful, then suddenly and unexpectedly engulfs her in a hug. "It's really good to see you, Rory."

"You too," she says when he's released her, and it really, really is. She feels five years worth of news and questions bubbling up inside her, but she can't find a place to start, just stands there awkwardly.

"So, this is Rory?" the stall owner - Cassie - says finally. She rolls her eyes at Dean when he still makes no move to introduce her, and holds out her hand to Rory. "I'm Cassie."

"Sorry, Cassie." Dean gives her a quick hug, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "I was just so surprised to see Rory. You mind if the two of us take off for a while?"

He turns to Rory. "Do you have time? It would be good to catch up."

She mumbles her assent, and Dean grins, wicked glint in his eye. "I can show you a good place for round cakes."

* * *

Rory ends up with a square cake, actually - a slab of shortbread with thick caramel oozing out from under the hard chocolate topping. Dean gets a doughnut, raspberry jelly spurting out from its heart when he takes a bite. Dean looks pretty much the same - broader, now, finally grown into his lanky frame, and subtly different in a way that reminds her of all the ways she's changed in the last five years, but still recognisably the same boy she knew.

"So," he asks, wiping a smudge of jelly off his lip with his thumb. "What have you been doing? I heard about the campaign trail job, but I kind of lost track after that."

"I got a job in Washington after that -" she begins, and then checks herself. "No, wait, tell me about you. I never even heard you'd left Stars Hollow."

"Yeah, I got a scholarship out of community college." Dean ducks his head, looking pleased and embarrassed at the same time. "Landscape architecture. And then there was a job here, so... It's all gone pretty well."

"Dean!" Rory flings her arms around him, forgetting her awkwardness in her surprise and pleasure. "That's great!"

He smells the same, spicy boy-scent of him discernible now in the warm cafe, and it's hard to pull away, but there's only so long she can hold on before it becomes weird.

"What else is happening with you?" she forces herself to ask.

"Not much, really." Dean deposits the last bite of his doughnut on her plate and breaks off a piece of her shortbread. "My contract here's nearly up, and they've offered me another one, but... I'm not sure."

Rory waits, readying herself to hear about his wife, his kids, how the school system's better some other place.

"I'd like to work on some different kinds of projects," he says instead. "I love it here, but the city's the main customer for the firm I'm working for. I've been thinking about going someplace I can take on some more personal projects, maybe starting my own business. It's kind of scary, but now's the time, while I'm still young and I've only got myself to worry about."

Rory lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding. If there _was _ a wife and kids, he'd have mentioned them by now. "I know what you mean," she agrees.

"Yeah?" Dean leans back in his chair, and Rory's eyes follow the line of his torso, narrowing down to those long legs.

She jerks her gaze back to his face. "Sorry, what?"

"I was asking why you're going freelance." If Dean noticed her looking, his face gives no sign of it. "I thought you'd be a staffer on CNN by now."

"I want to try something different," she says. She doesn't know where to start with explaining her career and the way it's taken a completely different shape to the one she expected. Mitchum Huntsberger had been wrong when he'd said she didn't have what it took to be a journalist - Rory's good at her job - but maybe he hadn't been completely wrong. Because working as a staffer on a newspaper, or even television journalism... it doesn't give her much room for the kinds of stories she wants to tell. "I'm thinking of writing a book," she finds herself saying, unexpectedly.

"A novel?" Dean leans forward, interested.

"No, something factual. I want to write about how people form communities in the modern world. Something research-based, but not too academic, more like an account of real people's lives." She's getting warmed up now, putting things into words that she's hardly even dared let herself think about yet. "Because - you read a lot about societal breakdown, about people not having close communities any more. But then there are whole communities on the internet, people creating global support networks. And here, you know, it's a big city but that doesn't mean people don't have close communities, they're just not always the same as the old kind."

"And Stars Hollow," Dean says, seriously.

"Exactly." Rory realises she's been babbling. "Anyway. I'm not sure, yet. But if I went freelance I would have more time to work on my own projects, and I could still make a living, if I was careful. And keep up my contacts."

"It sounds great." From anyone else it would probably sound like a platitude, but Rory can see he really means it. She realises guiltily that she'd forgotten that about him: the way he always took an interest, even when it was something as stupid as her mom insisting on the precise ingredients for the perfect hoagie. The way he always believed in her.

Dean looks at his watch and jumps to his feet. "I've gotta go."

Rory feels her face fall, and reminds herself she's got no right to mind. He has a whole life here, probably has a date to get to, and as it is she's already stolen his afternoon with his friend.

"I promised Cassie I'd help pack up her stall, and I can't be late back tonight, I left my dog with some friends and they're going out," Dean explains. He pulls on his jacket and turns towards the door, then hesitates. "It was really good to see you again, Rory."

"You too." Rory's thinking slowly, mind still caught up on _Dogsitter, not babysitter_, so that he's almost out the door before she realises that his hesitation was Dean giving her the chance to make the first move.

"We should stay in touch," she says clumsily.

An uncertain look flickers across Dean's face, and for a horrible moment she thinks she's read him wrong, reminds herself that she's never exactly been good news for his life in the past. Then again, in the past, he was the one doing all the work.

"We could go for dinner sometime." Rory takes out her phone. "What's your number?"

Dean grins, sudden bright flash, and reels off his cell number. "Thanks, Rory."

He drops a quick kiss on her cheek, brief, platonic brush of lips, and then he's gone, long legs striding briskly through the crowd while Rory's still frozen in her seat.

At the last moment before he disappears, she feels the urge to jump up, to call him back. She can already see it in her mind's eye: the way he'd stop short in surprise before he turned back to her; the way he'd kiss her. But they're both grown-ups now, and nothing is that simple any more. So she stays in her seat.

Rory's pretty sure she knows - finally - what she wants, but some things have to take their own time. And this time, she's not planning to screw up.


End file.
